


you said don’t treat me badly, but you said it so sadly

by blessed_image



Series: bury a friend: umbrella academy fics [15]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Agender Number Five | The Boy, Angst, Ben Hargreeves Deserves Better, Ben Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Canonical Character Death, Canonical Child Abuse, Coming Out, DO NOT TREAT IT AS SUCH, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Good Brother Ben Hargreeves, Good Brother Klaus Hargreeves, Good Brother Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy), HHHH its very small but its there, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/No Comfort, Isolation, Klaus Hargreeves Deserves Better, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, No Incest, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, They all need hugs, but at the start they use he/him pronouns, god theyre so fucked up, this is based on their childhood lmao, uh, we-, yes both apply
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 04:49:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18358940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blessed_image/pseuds/blessed_image
Summary: Their childhoods were fucked up, but they had eachother. Until shit hit the fan, and they kinda didn’t anymore.





	you said don’t treat me badly, but you said it so sadly

**Author's Note:**

> five uses he/him at the start of this f  
> this shit hurt

They were kids. Idiotic, emotional and brutal; selfish to no end. Or at least, they were supposed to be. Instead, Ben was quiet and reserved- having seen and inflicted too much suffering to enjoy even a day of his life. A constant frown painting his expression, never being replaced unless he’s told he isn’t needed for the day’s mission. In contrast to him, Five was brash and violent. He strived to one-up everyone around him, a smirk plastering his face as he watched the people he hurt cry. Unlike Ben, he would purposefully throw himself into a situation where he could watch someone beg for their life; like he lived off of it.

 

Klaus wasn’t like either of them. The odd one out in the trio- 4, 5, 6.

 

He was loud, but with cheer. He was a pacifist for most of his childhood, refused to do anything too harsh. He’d grown up with ghosts, constantly heard stories ofast breaths and last words and last moments. Heard enough begging, seen enough splattered blood. He had heard about murderers, and he didn’t want to be one of them.

 

Hargreeves didn’t like that, of course. Giving Klaus a blue-black mark, as if he were a canvas eager to be coloured. The old man thought that of them all, though. Just in different ways.

 

One would come home from a mission, arms heavy and aching; exertion bledding his will dry. Two would have red-rimmed eyes, blaming it on the pressure of the water he was forced under for hours on end- but Klaus knew it wasn’t that. Three would have a raw throat every night, maybe every morning, too. But she would power through it, because if she didn’t then she would get way worse treatment.

 

Klaus had a colour pallete to show off, marks and scuffs from Hargreeves’ hands and his cane and-anything he could find, really. Anything that could make Klaus unable to lay down properly at night. There was the mausoleum, too. A headache that lasted for hours on end, numb ears from the intensity of screams. An aching back from being pressed against cold stone for no other reason than pain.

 

Five was restrained often. He had scars on his wrists from ropes, chains, barbed wire and handcuffs. He was told that he needed to get out of it, and if he didn’t then he wouldn’t be fed. Reginald wouldn’t go back for him, would probably leave him to die without even looking back if Five hadn’t been stubborn enough to make it out of several starved nights. That probably wasn’t the worse he even dealt with. Klaus has heard the gags, seen the fever sweating out Five’s brow. Seen the way his brother couldn’t walk for hours because he had been overworked.

 

Ben would be kept in a room, alone. Well, alone with animals. Alone with things he had to kill. ‘No emotional attachments’ Reginald would tell him, ‘You don’t know who you’ll have to kill, Number Six.’ Klaus still feels sick to his stomach thinking about it.

 

Vanya was rejected. She was told by her father that she had nothing, she wasn’t good enough to be compared to her siblings. She wasn’t going to make the cut. Didn’t help that no one would have the guts to stand up for her, aside from Five- but he was away pretty often, starving. 

 

God, they were all so fucked up.

 

But Klaus was somewhat lucky, he thinks. Five and Ben were always there for him, both of them being surprisingly caring. Ben would hold him through the hyperventilating, Five would insult Hargreeves behind his back and would encourage him to breathe when the first thing didn’t work. Klaus didn’t have enough energy to laugh, some nights.

 

He would be staring into a seemingly empty space in the corner of his room, flinching back at noises only he could hear. He would cry and beg, shrieking when one of the spirits would wipe ichor on his cheek; that only he could feel, only he could see. Klaus would apologise. Tell them both that he was just crazy.

 

They would shake their heads, pull him closer and whisper sweet words in his ear. They would wipe away the blood they couldn’t see. They would rock him into slumber, not even afraid of their father walking in and punishing them. Because Klaus was their brother. Klaus was important, Klaus was loved, Klaus was family.

 

They may disagree, but Five and Ben were the kindest of the bunch. Soft hands running through tangled, greasy hair. Kisses against foreheads. Promises of safety in the night. Sure, they were sad. They were broken from all the shit they had to endure at such an early age. They weren’t okay, but thanks to them both- Klaus knew that not being okay, was okay.

 

The three of them would sneak out on nights that Five could walk, nights that Ben could have bright enough eyes for (god, his eyes were so dark sometimes; tortured), nights that Klaus could breathe through. Nights that Klaus knew were real.They would go to whatever place was open, if they had enough stolen money in their pockets. If they didn’t, then they would just go sit under a bridge; listening to cars drive above them- hands grasped tightly together. Klaus loved it all. Klaus loved them both.

 

Klaus loved Five even when he stood before them both and told them ‘they’. Five was they. Five wasn’t a he, because he is for a boy; Five isn’t a boy.

 

Klaus loved Ben even when he wouldn’t recognise them, dull eyes with no life in them staring. Just staring. They would pull him into a hug and squeeze the life back into him, would show him that it’s okay and he doesn’t need to hurt anyone else.

 

Klaus adored them.

 

But then it all got ruined.

 

Five left, sudden and without a trace. Klaus cried that night, and so did Vanya. Sobs wracking the house, no care in the world for the screaming they would face from their father. Ben held Klaus through it, their sister would be invited in. Klaus didn’t like how a part of his brain told him that Five was being replaced.

 

And Ben died, gruesome and in pain. Dark eyes that wouldn’t gain any new light, Klaus couldn’t bring that life back into them anymore. No matter how hard he tried.

 

And Klaus was alone all over again, with blood staining his hands and no brother there to wipe it away.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading pls comment sjlsnsdi


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